


Bound In Their Bones

by The_Madd_Hatter



Category: Original Work
Genre: Body Dysphoria, F/F, F/M, Gay Pirates - Freeform, Gender Dysphoria, Haphephobia, Implied/Referenced Medial Abuse, Kidnapping, LGBT+, M/M, Multi, Non-Consensual Kissing, Non-Consensual Touching, References to Old Time Asylums, Vague Time Period, also the main character is older than i've described, irregular updates, pirates doing their pirate thing, so don't worry my children, that's it that's the entire story, they're around twenty twenty one, this story is actually a lot more light hearted than the tags suggest
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-16
Updated: 2017-10-20
Packaged: 2018-12-16 06:17:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11822928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Madd_Hatter/pseuds/The_Madd_Hatter
Summary: Benjamin straightens his posture, and lets the tension in his wrists soften. He must maintain decorum with grace in the face of his parents; otherwise he is simply nothing but something they did not intend to create. He will be nothing like when he was younger. He will not show off the face of a heathen determined to wear the dirt and mud like other boys, and will instead show that he is better than them; better than all of them.After all, how many can say that they’ve worn a disguise of a woman for fifteen years?o r:the story of a transboy getting taken by pirates and learning to not hate his own skin





	1. Hanging Johnny

**Author's Note:**

> hi hello!!!  
> i've been working on this bcus i'm stuck with writer's block for my little kookie/little yoongi series!!   
> please note that i don't usually work on this so there won't be frequent updates but please bear with me  
> warnings at the end notes

They’re putting him in a dress.

He  _ hates  _ dresses.

He hates the petticoats, the stockings, the hoops of the skirt, the corset, everything about it. It gets so stifling that he can’t ever breathe, no matter how loosely they put the corset around his chest.

They’re going to a hanging today. Benjamin wants to curl up in bed with a good book and read until the darkness of night prevents him from doing so, even with candles by his bed side. However, the hanging is for an infamous pirate, so he has to go.

He has to go, wearing a dress with lace that touches his ankles and makes them itch.

“Lilyanna! Time to go, darling,” his mother coos, petting his long hair. It’s placed in a pile at the base of his skull, artfully decorated to celebrate the death of this pirate. His mother takes the hat meant to match the dress he’s wearing, and gently places it upon his head, like she’s arranging flowers. She pinches his cheeks to bring color to them, and she smiles at him. “You’re so beautiful, darling. Your husband will love you.”

Ah, yes.

His “husband.”

The marriage contract they have between him and some poor fop from the hills. William, Benjamin thinks his name is. The boy thinks that just because he’s of age that he’s suddenly better than the people around him. Benjamin snorts to himself, softly enough so that his mother does not hear. (“Snorting is not  _ becoming _ of a  _ lady _ ,” she would say with her nose turned up to the sky.)

William is nothing but a cruel boy playing dress up in his father’s clothes, pretending to be more of an adult than he truly is.

Benjamin straightens his posture, and lets the tension in his wrists soften. He must maintain decorum with grace in the face of his parents; otherwise he is simply nothing but something they did not intend to create. He will be nothing like when he was younger. He will not show off the face of a heathen determined to wear the dirt and mud like other boys, and will instead show that he is better than them; better than all of them.

After all, how many can say that they’ve worn a disguise of a woman for fifteen years?

* * *

The pirate is surprisingly aesthetically pleasing. A sharp jawline and a smirk that showed how little he cared about the noose around his throat; though surprisingly, his features are very asymmetrical. Benjamin stares from where his parents are positioned: far enough away from the vagabonds and the poor to not seem too eager to see a man dying from a rope around his throat, but close enough to see the man’s face as it turns purple and his eyes bulge out of his skull.

What’s most striking about this pirate is his audacity to wear a corset and dress in public. It softens him, yet makes him more alluring. His legs are covered in stockings, and his feet and ankles are in heels. His hair curls around his shoulders and he straightens up, pushing his ankles together.

He will not give the audience the pleasure of his feet kicking in desperation, clearly.

“Artemis Dawson, you are charged with...”

Artemis? A beautiful name for a beautiful man. Said man seems to be realizing that whatever is happening is going to happen soon. The smirk has melted from his face, and instead determination has replaced it. Benjamin notices that the only thing that anyone else has seen is the dress.

“May God have mercy on your soul.”

Benjamin blinks and looks back at Dawson’s face. The smirk is back. It widens. Words shape his mouth, wrapping his lips around the vowels in the words.

“ _ Hello, my love _ ,” Dawson mouths, and somehow Benjamin hears it in his ears right as a blade cuts through the rope above Dawson’s head.

The screams from the crowd shock Benjamin, and he quickly tries to find his mother in the rushing crowd.

“Mother!  _ Mother _ !” he screams, grabbing his skirt and tries to go through the crowd.

The feeling of the people around him on his skin makes him want to die.

Benjamin keeps searching and looking, feeling the hair and breath of the crowd on his body and hearing the screams and shouts in his ears. He turns to see Dawson kiss a man. The man is taller, and blond-ish. Their kiss is searing, and Benjamin can see a flash of tongue between their lips. They part with a smile on Dawson’s face and a blush on the other man’s face. Dawson turns and sees Benjamin, and the smile turns feral. Benjamin hopes that his shock and the shiver down his spine from seeing their kiss isn’t visible; but it’s obvious that Dawson sees his reaction and takes insane pleasure in it. Dawson stalks over to Benjamin, the crowd not breaking his stride once. Benjamin is frozen, over sensitized to everything and nothing and Dawson is smug as he presses his body to Benjamin’s.

“Like what you see, sweetheart?” Dawson purrs.

Benjamin can’t move.

The heat of Dawson’s body is overwhelming.

Benjamin can’t  _ breathe _ . 

Dawson presses his mouth to Benjamin’s and Benjamin’s mind goes blank. Every inch of him screams out the overwhelming sensation of _too much too much make it stop make it stop_ _makeitstopmakeitstopithurtsithurts_ ** _ithurts_** and then Dawson pulls away.

“I know your pain, sweetheart,” he breathes against Benjamin’s cheek. “I feel the ache that you feel, the itch of your skin every time you’re forced to wear those ridiculous clothes. “

Benjamin can’t hope.

“Be ready for us,” Dawson coos and pets his shoulder. Dawson taps the tip of Benjamin’s nose and vanishes into the crowd.  The man that Dawson kissed looks at Benjamin with a look that makes Benjamin’s skin crawl.

Pity.

Benjamin  _ hates _ pity.

The other man vanishes like Dawson does and Benjamin’s body finally reacts to the overwhelming situation that Dawson’s lover (?) has placed him in.

He faints, like the woman everyone thinks he is.


	2. The Bold Princess Royal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "“It’ll be alright, Mother. Nothing bad will happen to me, I promise,” Benjamin tells her.
> 
> He doesn’t believe a word he says."
> 
> o r 
> 
> the aftermath of the failed hanging

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello have chapter two because Procrastination

He wakes up to see his mother’s relieved face. He’s in bed. 

“Lilyanna! Are you alright? You fainted at the gallows,” his mother says, petting his hair. He’s not   in the dress and corset anymore, which feels alright, but his skin is still hyper sensitive. He turns his head away from her attention and tries to inch away from her. The look on her face says that it’s the wrong move.

“Mother, I’m fine,” he replies. “I just... got overwhelmed.” He makes a face. “There was a lot of touching, and...” he trails off, not knowing what to say next. His mother’s expression softens.

“Do you need to go back to—“

“I would rather not, Mother. That place makes my skin crawl,” he interrupts her, refusing to look her in the eyes. He still has trouble with that, eye contact. It makes him feel like he’s looking into a person’s soul if he does that, and he doesn’t want to know a person’s dark secrets. “They beat me in there.”

“It was for your own good, darling. A little pain paves the way to bettering oneself,” she insists and Benjamin stops listening. When it comes to his time in that asylum, his parents insist that it was “for his own good” but he doesn’t see how continuously getting beaten and frozen is good treatment.

“Darling, I have to tell you something, something important,” his mother says, and Benjamin knows instantly what’s happening.

“How long are you going to be in London this time?” he asks and his mother’s posture somehow both tightens up and relaxes at the same time.

“A month. Darling, I _know_ how hard this gets on you, and I want you to know that this is the shortest time that we could schedule with your father’s workers,” she says and Benjamin can hear the regret and grief in her voice, as if someone has died. Someone probably did die, and she doesn’t want Benjamin to know until later. Typical.

“I understand, Mother. You have responsibilities you simply can’t avoid,” he smiled and hugged her tightly, swallowing down his nausea. “I’ll be fine; Alika will take care of me, you know he always does.”

“I just wish your father would take you with us,” his mother says and he pretends he didn’t hear her voice break.

“It’ll be alright, Mother. Nothing bad will happen to me, I promise,” Benjamin tells her.

He doesn’t believe a word he says.

* * *

If there’s something to be said about Alika, it’s that the Greek man took to mothering better than most mothers. He would fret and worry over his charges no matter how old they were. Alika himself is only 32 years old, but he acts as though he’s been on the Earth for a thousand years. His hair is long and his skin is tan and smells of rose water and petrichor. His nose is sharp like a hawk’s and his eyes are like a cat’s; filled with a knowledge and a mischief unlike this world.

But one thing that interests Benjamin in Alika is his knowledge of the gods.

“Ganymede was beautiful,” Alika breathes out, like he’s fallen into a memory and Benjamin can hear the smile in Alika’s voice. Alika is brushing Benjamin’s hair absentmindedly, obviously more interested in telling the tale to his charge. “The most beautiful boy that anyone had seen. If Ganymede had been born a woman, he would have had so many suitors and lovers that the myths would run together! But he didn’t need lovers or suitors; Ganymede had caught the attention of Zeus himself, and in Zeus’s eyes, Ganymede didn’t need anyone else. After all, who would want anyone else after Zeus?

“Zeus came down from Mount Olympus in the form of an eagle, and came to Ganymede while the boy was attending sheep. The gods wanted Ganymede to be their cup-bearer, to pour their wine and to bask in his beauty. Zeus wanted him as a lover, to teach him the feeling of another’s hand on his skin and where to kiss. Zeus is a greedy god, and wants everything to benefit him; teaching Ganymede how to experience pleasure is, I think, one of Zeus’s biggest demonstrations of his greed.”

“Why would you want someone to teach you pleasure?” Benjamin asks, holding one of the parts in his hair to help assist Alika braid his hair. “It seems so... excessive.”

“Ah, it just depends. Some people believe physical pleasure is a chore, a duty to create children. Others find it to be an amazing thing. And besides, Ganymede is the only one of Zeus’s lovers to gain immortality. He has plenty of time to figure out what he wants.”

“Why are you telling me this story, Alika? You usually have some moral along with it,” Benjamin tugs on Alika’s hand to gain his attention when he gets too quiet. Benjamin turns to look at Alika and he’s staring at the ceiling, an odd look on his face.

“What? Oh, yes. The reason I told you that story is because, for some reason, you remind me of Ganymede,” Alika shakes his head back into consciousness, smiling at Benjamin.

“Why do I remind you of a myth?”

“I know that someday, you’ll be the beautiful creature that will capture someone’s attention enough for them to want to take you away.”

* * *

Alika goes home around seven o’clock that evening, along with Maria the scullery maid. Benjamin isn’t unaccustomed to being home alone, often going by the fireplace to read. His parents have already left, having packed in the previous days. Benjamin is in his favorite chair, reading Chaucer.

There are loud noises (explosions?) in the background that Benjamin starts to notice. They edge closer to the harbors near his house. After a frighteningly close  **_boom_ ** , he looks up sharply, takes his book, and hurriedly goes to his closet, grabbing his grandmother’s necklace along the way.

He would rather die than part with it.

Noises echo through the house, the sound of the doors in front of the foyer bursting open reach Benjamin’s ears and he belatedly wishes that he had grabbed the swords in his father’s den.

“Find anything and everything!” an accented voice yells out. Other voices make grunts in agreement, which leads to the sound of more doors being kicked in and dressers being opened.

Benjamin is alone in his home and pirates have just broken in.

Benjamin’s heart is beating out of his chest and he prays it isn’t as loud as it is in his ears. He holds the book over his heart, just in case a pirate decides to become naughty.

The door to his room bursts open. Benjamin knows he’s going to die.

The dresser drawers get pulled out and land on the floor roughly. The bed is torn apart.

Benjamin knows he’s going to die.

The closet opens sharply.

Artemis Dawson stares at him.

“Well, sweetheart,” Dawson purrs. “You were ready for us, weren’t you?”

Benjamin is going to  _ die _ .


	3. The Derelict

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lol sorry for not updating in fucking FOREVER

Dawson yanks Benjamin out from the closet and Benjamin sees a beautiful Chinese woman holding his sheets. She stares for a second, and then goes back to destroying his mattress, as if he’s hiding things in the stitches.

“Well, sweetheart. You’re going to do me a favor,” Dawson chuckles at him, pulling out his pistol and trailing it down Benjamin’s cheek. Benjamin stiffens at the cool metal on his face. “You’re going to tell me where all your valuables are, and _maybe_ I won’t shoot you.” the man draws out the word “maybe” in a tone that is more suited for music.

“My wardrobe,” Benjamin points behind him. The Chinese woman and Dawson glance up towards it in question. “I have very expensive dresses that you can sell. Three of them are purple, too. Not to mention countless whale bone corsets.”

“Purple, eh?” Dawson asks, and inspects the dresses. He finds the green one and makes a pleased sound, holding it up to his body in the looking glass. He’s still wearing the heels from his attempted hanging. Benjamin feels an echo of the kiss Dawson gave him and a hint of disgust and fear oozes down his spine. The Chinese woman is going through Benjamin’s jewelry box with apathy.

“Have you checked the den?” Benjamin suddenly asks. He doesn’t know why he says it, but he does. He’s not even looking at either of them, just at the pattern of the carpet. “Behind the portrait of the King, there’s a safe. It has everything you could ever want in there; even pistols if you need more of them. There’s even my father’s accounting records if you want them. Otherwise I don’t really know what you want.”

The Chinese woman escorts herself out of the room. Dawson looks at Benjamin through the reflection of the looking glass. Benjamin can’t keep his eyes on Dawson so he shifts his gaze to the carpet again.

“You’re a... _shifty_ little thing, aren’t you?”

“After being blasted by large hoses and almost frozen in ice baths, one tends to become shifty,” Benjamin snipes back before immediately realizing his mistake.

“Oh. You’re one of those poor little wretches, aren’t you?” Dawson turns to face Benjamin, his strangely colored eyes staring him down. “Those little things who complain of a tiny ailment and then when you go to the doctor it’s suddenly that you masturbated once and that it needs to be rehabilitated, right?”

“I talked too little for my father. Then I talked too much,” Benjamin agrees. He glances up to meet Dawson’s eyes. “Add in my negative reactions to touch, and you have a case of hysteria.”

“Touch?”

“Anyone touches me in any way, I...” Benjamin drops his gaze again, knowing that not everyone wants to hear his struggles.

“Go on, little one. I want to hear it,” Dawson says, and somehow he has made his words sound both condescending and sincere. Benjamin is uncomfortable with it.

“It’s nothing. Just some—“

“If you say it’s ‘just some female whining’ I will pistol whip you,” Dawson says flatly. “All feelings are important, you little thing, and the fact that you say otherwise is indicative that those quacks did a number on you. Now. What _happens_ when people _touch_ you?” the man leans forward, the green dress still in his hands. He pushes his way into Benjamin’s personal bubble, enough for Benjamin to feel the breath from Dawson’s nose on his mouth and to count his dark eyelashes.

“... It makes me want to die,” Benjamin breathes, paralyzed by Dawson’s closeness. He wants him to get back get **back** get _back_ get away _getawayawayaway **away**_ —

“Ah. Well. That means that kiss I gave you made you feel bad, hm? Sorry,” Dawson says offhandedly, as if the apology was just something he just remembered to do. “So what do you want to take with you?”

“W-What?” Benjamin stutters out, lifting his head to fully face Dawson.

“I’m taking you with me, you silly little thing,” Dawson sing songs, making an aborted gesture, like he was going to pinch Benjamin’s cheeks but thinks better of it. “Take you away from all those people who want to fix you without knowing what’s broken. Besides, masturbating is _great_ , especially with a partner.” He purrs out the word “partner” with the tone of personal experience.

“Do I get any choice in this?”

“Nope! ‘Cause I have a gun, and I’m not afraid to use it,” the pirate chuckles out, tapping the pistol against his own temple. “Now! Show me this wondrous safe of yours, will you, little one? We’re about to have a party!”

* * *

 

Picking out his least feminine clothes is strangely the oddest part of his day.

Dawson is in the background, ordering one of the other pirates to help him lace up a corset that has filigree that usually makes Benjamin itch in more ways than one.  The pirate is chuckling darkly, commenting “Hans is gonna love tha’ one, Ar’y.”

“I know he is, and don’t call me Arty. It’s too boy-ish, don’t you think?” Dawson says glibly.

“Ah, yeah. Sorry ‘bout tha’. I always forge’,” the pirate sounds apologetic. Dawson pats the pirate on the head with a smile.

“Do it again, and I’ll tattoo it on your stomach so you remember, you brute,” Dawson giggles, causing the pirate to chuckle deeply. The pirate smiles and Benjamin can see multiple teeth are gold.

“Oi! W’atchu lookin’ at?” the pirate snaps at Benjamin and Benjamin shoots his gaze onto his clothes again.

“Nothing,” Benjamin says too quickly, and Dawson laughs outright.

“Wilbur, that little thing is curious! Don’t be so cruel to her,” Dawson smacks the pirate in the shoulder like a woman would and Benjamin wants to vomit.

_Her._

He _hates_ that word.

He roughly forces his book of Chaucer into the bag that Dawson gave him, nearly stretching the fabric of his shirt. He grabs another book of poetry and shoves it on top of _Chaucer’s Collection of Stories_.

“Ooh, touchy, eh?” Dawson giggles out while the pirate – Wilbur? – starts looking through the remnants of the jewelry boxes they had already torn apart. “Is it the ‘ _little thing_ ’ or is it the ‘ _her_ ’ that makes you want to hit me?”

“I don’t want to hit you,” Benjamin protests half-heartedly, and Dawson laughs outright.

“Well good, little one! I would hate to shoot you!” Dawson crows, and Wilbur laughs and sweeps up Dawson in an impromptu dance. They start singing out random syllables and Wilbur starts twirling Dawson around the room.  They laugh as if they had been married for years and are still in love. Wilbur dips Dawson deeply and presses a loud smacking kiss onto Dawson’s bare collar bone. Dawson squawks and flails his arms.

Benjamin wonders if this is a regular occurrence between them. The Chinese woman comes back into the room and stares as Wilbur keeps pressing loud kisses onto Dawson’s skin. She looks up at Benjamin.

“Packed, yes?” she asks and Benjamin realizes that Alika will panic when he finds out that Benjamin is gone. Alika panicking is the last thing that Benjamin wants because his parents will find out.

Oh _god_ his parents are going to find out.

“Is it too late to want to back out of this?” Benjamin asks and Wilbur cackles like a witch.

“Ain’t got a choice in this! Now get yer shit!” Wilbur shoves Benjamin in the shoulder and Benjamin’s brain screams out DIE DIE DIE _DIE DIE DIE **DIE**_ at the sensation of the pirate’s hand on his skin.

“And we’re off!” Dawson points his pistol out towards the door, and Benjamin feels like everything is going to hell.

**Author's Note:**

> warning for non-consensual kissing, talk of a person dying via hanging, and Benjamin passing out
> 
> follow me on  twitter 


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